Joe Craig - Jimmy Coates - Killer

“My parents…I was in my house…these men came…they chased me, but that was later…I don’t know…and my sister, but…” Then Jimmy stopped because he realised he was crying. He let the tears come like warm comfort on his chilled face. The fluorescent lights blurred in his eyes and the huge policeman came round to Jimmy’s side of the desk.

“That’s all right, Jimmy. Come and sit down.” At the sound of his name, Jimmy immediately tensed up again and stopped crying. He felt the officer’s huge hand on the top of his head. It guided him gently but firmly to the bench.

“I’m Sergeant Atkinson,” said the policeman. He was limping, but trying not to show it. Jimmy had to step over a fire extinguisher that was lying on the floor, and push past a small table. “That shouldn’t be there, sorry,” said the sergeant as he bent down. With one strong arm he snatched up the fire extinguisher, setting it upright next to the door.

The policeman with the blood all over his face stood up as soon as Jimmy sat down. He went past the desk and pushed through the doors, out of sight.

“How do you know my name?” Jimmy’s voice was meek, quiet.

“Your neighbours called and told us everything that happened.”

“Mr Higgins?”

“No, Mr and Mrs Bourne.”

Jimmy didn’t know the neighbours on the other side. He had never even seen them. There was usually a car in the driveway, like there was in every driveway, but he had never seen anybody coming or going.

“Why didn’t you go round to them for help when it all happened?” said Sergeant Atkinson.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think of it, I suppose.” Jimmy considered whether he should have just gone next door, but it didn’t feel right. It was too close to home. Surely by now his house was crawling with men in suits waiting for him to come back. They would have found him easily if he had just been next door.

“They would have helped you, Jimmy. They were waiting for you to come round.”

“What do you mean, they were waiting? Why didn’t they call the police? Call you, I mean?”

“They did, of course,” explained the sergeant. “That’s how we know what happened.” Jimmy was starting to feel silly now, but he was sure he hadn’t acted stupidly. It had all felt so dangerous–like he had to get away from the house as soon as he could.

“But…if they called the police,” Jimmy stammered, “why didn’t you come?”

“We did. But you had run off.” Sergeant Atkinson patted Jimmy on the head as if to comfort him. But Jimmy was thinking. He was trying to push away the tiredness and the fear, forcing his thoughts and memories into some kind of order.

“But I didn’t. I was at my house,” Jimmy said, almost to himself.

The policeman stood up to welcome one of his colleagues coming through the swing doors behind the desk. It was a young policewoman, beaming at Jimmy.

“I was at my house,” Jimmy said again.

Sergeant Atkinson turned round and gave him a questioning frown.

“No, you jumped out the window and ran off,” he said.

“No I—How did you know I jumped out the window?”

“The Bournes told us. They saw the whole thing. Your neighbours.” The policewoman was speaking now. She was in uniform just like the others, but seemed a lot shinier. Maybe it was the smile. “There have been a lot of police officers looking for you all night,” she said, in a way that made Jimmy feel like it was his fault.

“But, I was just…” Jimmy stopped himself. If so many people were looking for him, why hadn’t he seen a single policeman? Or any police cars?

Jimmy stood up and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.

“Who’s after me? Why are they chasing me?” Jimmy was glad he’d had a chance to cry, to let out some of the confusion. Now his head was clearing. The lights in the station had woken him up a little, too. He picked up his bag and shifted from foot to foot. The police officers looked at each other. It was the woman that spoke first.

“Don’t think about that now. Let’s get—”

“Who’s after me? If you know, tell me.” Jimmy had been through too much already to have secrets kept from him. But his question was only greeted with silence. “Why aren’t you telling me?” Jimmy was getting more and more impatient, but it was hard to raise his voice at police officers. He waited a second, then he let go and shouted: “Why aren’t you telling me?”

More policemen emerged at the back of the room. They were all big, and none of them was smiling.

“What are they all doing here if they’re meant to be out looking for me?” Something was wrong. It was obvious. There was no way that any neighbours could have seen him jump out of the window. And if anybody had been watching, they would have seen him hide under the car then go back to the house.

The sergeant spoke at last, but it wasn’t good enough for Jimmy.

“Sit down, Jimmy. You’re tired and overexcited. We’re here to help,” he blathered.

“I’m leaving now,” said Jimmy, edging towards the door. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be OK, though.” There were half a dozen policemen now. One of them strode over to the front door. One of them crossed his arms and stayed by the swing doors at the back. Another one slipped in behind the desk and put his hand on the receiver of the phone. Jimmy could feel that dark ball welling up inside him.

“I’m going to stay with my cousins, so I’ll be fine.” He tried to stop it, to push it back down, but it was fuelled by anger now. Jimmy could feel it growing darker and larger than it had before. Please, he said to himself, don’t try and fight all these policemen. Perhaps they’re on my side. But in his heart, he was just uncertain enough.

“There’s no need to go, Jimmy. We can sort this out.”

“Goodbye.” Jimmy leapt in the air, his trainers squeaking on the lino, and dashed under the flailing arms of Sergeant Atkinson.

“Stop him!” someone shouted. The room erupted into chaos and hullabaloo. Jimmy felt himself moving, but couldn’t influence his actions. Once again the animal instinct that had helped him survive that night had taken control of his limbs. He knocked over the table with his shin, but didn’t feel any pain. Leaflets flew everywhere. Jimmy grabbed a notice board, shoving it in the way of a huge policeman as he dived. The policeman hit the floor and Jimmy stepped on his back to springboard off it and slam his feet into Sergeant Atkinson’s chest. Jimmy rolled under the desperate lunges of the other police, then bounded to his feet and rushed to the door. It was a big, heavy wooden door, but Jimmy crashed through it into the street. And ran.

The lobby of the police station was devastated. The policeman with the bloody nose reappeared through the swing doors and laughed, glad he wasn’t the only one to have suffered that night.

Sergeant Atkinson picked himself up and dusted off his uniform. His huge jaw cracked as he ground his teeth. There was an impressed smile behind his eyes as he looked out through the door, broken off its hinges, into the early morning.

“Let him go, it’s OK. We’ll pick him up at his cousins,” he said. “Where do they live?”

The policewoman next to him looked down at her boots. Then she spat out the words: “He doesn’t have any cousins.”

Jimmy ran just like he had already that night, but this time he couldn’t hear anybody following him. He ran longer than he needed to, just in case, until finally he started to feel weakness seeping into his knees. It was the strain that would normally have come ages ago. He slipped into a doorway and looked behind him. The street was empty. If anybody had been following him, they hadn’t kept up.